


heavy lies the crown

by bloominsummer



Series: armour & diadem [1]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Oblivious Choi Seungcheol | S. Coups, Pining, jeonghan's idea of endearment terms are insult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: Crown Prince Jeonghan is expected to wed before he can assume the throne in a few years’ time. But when weeks pass with him turning down every single one of his potential suitors, the concerned captain to his Prince’s Guard tasks himself to seek the reason why.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Series: armour & diadem [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075181
Comments: 34
Kudos: 367





	heavy lies the crown

**Author's Note:**

> happiest birthday, carats' general leader <3
> 
> click [here](https://twitter.com/mmitbakery/status/1290688127418470402)

“You have no rights to speak to me as such!” the young nobleman from the South spurs on, pointing a treacherous finger at the unbothered prince.

Prince Jeonghan leans back on his royal seat and shoots the honoured guest an uninterested look. He toys with the small wooden eagles carved out at the end of his chair’s arms, petting it as if it was real. Seungcheol takes a deep breath and subtly moves his hand toward the clip of his sword’s scabbard. While pointing a finger at a member of the royal family is not a crime punishable by death, drawing a deadly weapon is, and the nobleman looks like he’s a second away from doing so.

If he does eventually commit that stupid mistake, Seungcheol is close by to make sure it would be his last mistake ever.

“I will speak to you as I deem fit,” says Jeonghan, his tone cold and biting.

Seungcheol eyes the audience of the Great Hall, catching bits of the muted whispers exchanged and disapproving looks sent in Jeonghan’s direction.

“Besides, I did not see an ounce of untruthfulness in what I have said.”

The nobleman is seething now, hot steam coming out his every orifice: nostrils, ears, mouth. A lesser man would have likened him to a dragon, but Seungcheol has seen Jeonghan’s wrath from close proximity more than once. In comparison, the nobleman pales horribly. He is nothing more than a hatchling standing next to the prince, who breathes blue ice instead of red fire.

“You!” the nobleman turns to him, “You will stand for such insolence?”

Seungcheol offers him no satisfaction in the form of a response, not even the slight twitching of his facial muscle at that. As Captain of the Prince’s Guard, it should be quite obvious where his loyalties lie. If the nobleman can’t see what’s right in front of him, then he has no business standing in the middle of the hall and asking for Jeonghan’s hand in marriage. The prince deserves better—better than this bumbling fool whose only advantage in life is that he had been born into a family of means.

His face is flushed crimson now, hands fisted at his sides, pressed against the expensive purple fabric of his pants. Seungcheol imagines he’d be able to rip it just with a simple flick of a wrist. The nobleman stomps his feet on the ground a grand total of three times before dashing toward the exit, making an exit as dramatic as the last couple of minutes has been. Members of his household follow closely in his footsteps, the hall emptying with their subsequent withdrawals.

Before long, the only people left are Jeonghan’s own staff. When Seungcheol scans the group for a particular face, he finds Seokmin shooting him a funny look from where he’s leaning against one of the pillars near the door. He shrugs when Seungcheol meets his gaze, as if to say: _this is your mess, please handle it._ As Seokmin ushers the rest of the crowd out of the hall to give them some privacy, Seungcheol makes a mental note to have a conversation with the prince’s attendant for making him do this every single time.

Seokmin closes the door behind him, leaving Seungcheol alone with the prince. Crown Prince Yoon Jeonghan; diamond of the country, the shining star of his people, first in line for the throne. Twenty and five years of age, which means he is expected to wed any day now. His marriage, as most royal affairs are, is to be a political arrangement of some sort. Leverage that will not only better the prospect of his people, but also ensure the longevity of Jeonghan’s reign.

The thought of Jeonghan marrying for reasons other than love and his own desires bothers Seungcheol immensely. It has escalated to the point that it keeps him awake at night, but he supposes it’s simply his protective instincts over Jeonghan kicking in and nothing more. Not that Jeonghan has a need for his concern, of course, for he seems more than capable of fending off his suitors all by himself. One by one potential partner pays him a visit, lavishing him in trinkets of gold and flattery, but none of it seems to move Jeonghan.

Seungcheol turns to him. “Did you have to call him unsightly?”

“I did not call him unsightly,” Jeonghan drawls, dragging his gaze to Seungcheol’s face. “I said if he had nothing of substance to say, he can remove himself from my line of sight since he was less than pleasant to look upon.”

His crown is crooked to the left, Seungcheol promptly realises. He walks up the steps to Jeonghan’s seat and pauses once he arrives by his side. Jeonghan leans his head toward him, as though he can read Seungcheol's mind without him having to vocalise what’s inside. It really won’t come off as a surprise to Seungcheol if he really is able to do so.

The day the orphaned Seungcheol—then only ten and two years of age—was brought into the castle to attend court for stealing a piece of bread, he bumped into the young prince in the hallways while attempting to flee. Ever since then, his intentions have always been open secrets to Jeonghan.

He supposes transparency is a low price to pay, seeing as how Jeonghan saved his life.

The prince, who had never taken an interest in anything or anyone besides books up to that point, persuaded his father to exonerate Seungcheol in return for the promise of companionship.

In those early days, Seungcheol thought it was a gift. To be able to dine with the prince, train in the martial arts taught mostly to members of the royal family, read the same books Jeonghan did after he’s through with them. But as he grew up, he began to realise that it was more of a responsibility. No—not a burden, for he is in this life willingly. He took up knighthood out of his own volition, and the mantle of Captain the same way.

“My apologies, Your Royal Highness,” Seungcheol murmurs before his fingers wrap around the circlet, heavy and cold to the touch.

Carefully, he fixes the placement of the crown on Jeonghan’s head, makes sure his shining locks aren't tangled in the intricate metal swirls that make up the band. Jeonghan closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh, a soft sound Seungcheol rarely ever hears him omit in the presence of others.

This too, Seungcheol has learned over time, is not a gift. Jeonghan letting his walls down around Seungcheol is a _privilege,_ one that Seungcheol must treat with the utmost care.

“A secret for your thoughts,” says Seungcheol once he’s finished with his task.

The first time he wanted to know what Jeonghan is thinking, he had offered a penny and got shot down immediately.

 _I am a prince, what need do I have for pennies? Offer something worth the trade or keep quiet_.

It took Seungcheol weeks to figure out what he might have that Jeonghan didn’t already. In the end, all he could come up with are things about himself. Secrets he’d never thought he’d find someone else to share with.

“I don’t want this,” mutters Jeonghan, low and borderline contemptuous. “This whole affair is ridiculous.”

“It wasn’t ridiculous in the beginning,” Seungcheol attempts to bargain. “The suitors were perfectly adequate for you—”

Jeonghan sends him a sharp look that swallows the rest of Seungcheol’s sentence in its intensity. “I don’t want adequacy!” Of course he doesn’t. That was a grave error on Seungcheol’s part. “Nowhere in the laws of this country does it state that I must wed to be fit to rule, therefore I do not see the point of it all. This is merely a waste of taxpayer’s coins.”

“Very well,” Seungcheol agrees with him, because Jeonghan is hardly ever wrong. Every banquet held in welcome of a guest is another unnecessary expenditure from the country’s treasury, for the surely the entire Council is aware that the prince is not giving in to their request anytime soon. “If you don’t wish to be wed, you still don’t have to treat these people the way you have.”

“Why not?”

It sounds like a weird question to Seungcheol.

“They travelled a great distance to see you,” he begins with the obvious, “they brought gifts with them and along with those treasures, a gentle hope that you may find them fanciful enough to take as a consort.”

“They travelled to see a spectacle,” Jeonghan retorts sharply. “They do not know me, nor do they care who I am as a person. The only thing they care about is this,” he points at the crown perched atop his head, “and nothing more. Had it not been for my title, do you think any of them would give me the time of the day?”

 _I would_ , Seungcheol thinks idly, but he’s biased when it comes to this matter, is he not?

“In any case, you will have to find a partner sooner or later.”

It is not a menial task to rule a country and Seungcheol wishes for Jeonghan to have all the support he needs when he needs it the most. As his knight, Seungcheol can only give him so much, and it might not even come close to being enough.

“If you start early, you would have more time to get to know them," he tries again, "then you would have more time to fall in love and _be_ in love.”

Jeonghan mumbles something in response, but Seungcheol’s ears fail to catch his words. His hands are now gripping the eagle heads tight, no longer stroking it leisurely as he had moments ago. Seungcheol spots the slight tremble in them. Is Jeonghan angry, perhaps? Had Seungcheol gone too far with his words just now?

“Apologies, Your Highness. I'm afraid I have missed—”

“What about you?” cuts Jeonghan, a little harsh in his delivery.

Seungcheol doesn’t understand his meaning. “What about me, my prince?”

“You really would let me marry another, wouldn't you,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head and rising from his seat.

The confusion inside Seungcheol only grows with each passing second. In his head, he goes over Jeonghan’s diction over and over again. _Another_ suggests that Jeonghan already has someone in mind, but as Seungcheol searches every nook and cranny of his memory for any sort of meaningful interactions between the prince and people in the castle, or intimate correspondences with people outside it. He comes up empty.

“My prince—” Seungcheol starts, but he is stopped in his tracks by the sight of fresh tears brimming in Jeonghan’s brown orbs. It’s a very jarring sight, considering in all the years he’s been in Jeonghan’s service, Seungcheol can count the time he’s witnessed the prince crying with one hand.

“My prince? Are you hurt?” he surges forward to close the distance between them.

Jeonghan raises a hand in the air, his palm held toward Seungcheol.

“Forget I said anything,” he shudders through the sentence, lithe body curling into himself. He looks so small this way, though the shadow he casts is as great as it has ever been. Jeonghan looks away to wipe the residual tears from the corner of his eyes. “I'm retiring to my chambers and I wish not to be disturbed unless the castle is suddenly under siege. Send Seokmin to deliver my supper.”

The prince is gone before Seungcheol can even tell him the secret he was supposed to exchange Jeonghan’s thoughts with.

♔♚♔♚♔♚♔♚

“I take it your conversation did not go well,” Seokmin comments lightly when Seungcheol goes to find him.

“He shed a tear.”

The dough in Seokmin’s hand drops lifelessly back to the wooden cutting board. “You made the crown prince wept?” he asks, voice dropped to a scandalous whisper. “I think that classifies as an act of high treason, Choi. What did you say to him?”

“Prince Jeonghan did not _weep_.” Seokmin raises his eyebrows at him, sceptical. “It was not that kind of affair,” Seungcheol insists again, which has Seokmin shrugging his broad shoulders in reluctant defeat.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing out of line, I would think.” He has analysed the interaction half a dozen times and found no obvious fault in his words. “I only said it is better for him to find a spouse sooner rather than later, so he would have more time to start a life with them.”

Seokmin stops rolling the dough to give him a pointed look.

“What?”

“And you do not see the flaw in that sentence of yours?”

Seungcheol shakes his head and Seokmin does the same, only his action is more exasperated than confused. Seokmin’s responses indicate that he knows something Seungcheol isn’t aware of, which is hardly likely but not exactly impossible. Who can tell what Jeonghan chooses to share with his attendant between the times of his private meals and bathing and dressing? The prince seems quite fond of Seokmin’s charms— _oh_.

Could it be that Jeonghan’s liking toward Seokmin had evolved from mere endearment to infatuation?

That would explain his words. _You would really let me marry another,_ as he assumed Seungcheol knows about his feelings toward Seokmin and would help him secure a future with the attendant. There’s a twinge in his chest, which Seungcheol quickly attributes to his failure of perceiving Jeonghan’s heart, but he pushes it aside to seize Seokmin by the wrist.

“Is it you?”

Seokmin looks down at Seungcheol’s tight fingers wrapping around his hand, and then back up at Seungcheol.

“Is it me, what?”

“The prince implied to me that already has someone in mind for marriage,” Seungcheol explains quickly. “I’m asking if he was referring to you.”

A range of expressions crosses Seokmin’s features, from one of bewilderment to irritation to despondence. All in the span of a couple of seconds. Then, finally, he busts out laughing. Seungcheol would have hit the back of his head if he hadn’t been taken aback by such a response. He was being _serious_ and Seokmin has never treated him this way before.

The attendant wipes his brow with the back of his hand. A streak of flour is left there when he’s through. Seungcheol decides not to let him know about it.

“In God’s name, you are denser than this dough. And this dough is very dense, Choi.” Seokmin is still giggling, engulfed in his amusement and complete ignorance of Seungcheol’s growing confusion. “The person whose identity you seek is not me,” he says eventually.

“But you do know who it is.”

“I do.”

“Then tell me,” Seungcheol demands.

“No,” Seokmin answers without thinking twice. Seungcheol is about to voice his protest, but the younger man beats him to it. “I think you of all people understand how unlikely it is for me to ever betray Prince Jeonghan’s confidence.”

And damn it, Seokmin has a point. He leaves the dense dough above the board and goes to fetch the soup boiling in the pot. Seungcheol watches as he pours a generous amount into a ceramic bowl, retrieves a piece of bread from this morning’s batch of baking, and with it a small vessel of water. Seokmin arranges them neatly above a tray and gives Seungcheol one last look before he takes his leave for the prince’s quarters.

“Choi,” Seokmin calls once he’s halfway out of the kitchen, “I am quite sure you know the answer, too. You just need to look for it in the right places.”

He disappears with a final wink in Seungcheol's direction and he's left to ponder upon the meaning hidden between Seokmin’s lines while staring at the bread dough.

Seungcheol can swear the dough is mocking him for his cluelessness.

♔♚♔♚♔♚♔♚

It is later that night that everything falls into place for Seungcheol.

He’s sitting by the open window when it happens, looking up at the stars and listing the constellations he can spot in the gloomy sky one by one. Seungcheol idly recalls how on one chilling night during his sixteenth year, Jeonghan had insisted on him being able to memorise them.

Remembering those days make him feel reminiscent. Nostalgic, really, of how easy things were—at least for him—when they were young men. All Seungcheol had to do was go about his days the way it was scheduled for him. Training, lessons, training, lessons, meals with Jeonghan in between.

Then, when twilight would hug the world and lull it to sleep, Jeonghan would come knocking at his door. Seungcheol would be able to tell from to look on his face what he’d need from him. Some days, it was to help Jeonghan sneak out of the castle and to the large hill behind the stables. Other days, he’d simply need to gather the prince in his arms and engulf Jeonghan in warmth until his breathing had evened out, then Seungcheol would carry him back to his room to make sure he woke up in the right bed.

Now he wakes up in the morning to retrieve Jeonghan from his chamber and escort him to the Great Hall, where suitors are lining up for his hand in marriage, all of them carrying offerings Seungcheol could not afford to even dream about.

He closes his eyes and hears Jeonghan’s voice from the past. A little softer then, the edge untouched by time. 

“That one,” Jeonghan pointed out with a forefinger, his head pillow in Seungcheol’s lap, “is Sagittarius.”

Seungcheol frowned at the sky. “What am I looking at?”

“Fool,” said Jeonghan, but he sounded so fond Seungcheol decided not to mind. “There,” he pointed out again, “the one that looks like a man holding a bow and arrow.”

“Of course,” Seungcheol chuckled. “You and penchant for archery.”

Jeonghan shifted until his cheek was pressed against Seungcheol’s thigh, a palm splayed over the older boy’s knee.

“Not everyone can swing around a real sword without breaking a sweat. I'm more likely to injure myself trying.”

Another chuckle almost escaped him at the mental image Jeonghan’s sentence conjured, but then Seungcheol realised that the prince had been referring to _him._ Not only did that sound an awful lot like a compliment, but it also meant Jeonghan was present for at least one of his training sessions. Seungcheol didn’t know that. It never once crossed his mind that Jeonghan would be standing on the sidelines while he parried swords with another. 

“You watched me.”

It was much more of a statement rather than a question.

There was a soft flush creeping up Jeonghan’s neck, blood spreading through his arteries turning his skin pink. Seungcheol brought his hands together and started rubbing his palms to generate heat before he slid one of them over Jeonghan’s nape. The prince let out a small yelp.

“Whatever are you doing?” he asked lowly, grip tightening on Seungcheol’s knee.

“We’ve been out here for too long, you’re getting awfully cold,” Seungcheol said easily. That was the origin of the flush, was it not? “I’m trying to warm you up.”

The prince remained quiet for a heartbeat and his silence worried Seungcheol enough to make him inquire further, “Have I crossed a line, Jeonghan-ah?”

He didn’t address Jeonghan with _my prince_ or _Your Highness_ back then, because four years into living in the castle and Seungcheol still hadn’t rid of most of his peasant discourtesies yet. It was much easier to remember his status in the presence of people who looked down at him. People who wouldn’t have thought twice before stepping on him with their feet.

Jeonghan, for all his crude words and forbidding appearance, had never treated Seungcheol as anything less than an equal. Seungcheol found it all too easy to feel comfortable around him.

“No,” came Jeonghan’s muted answer. “Do continue.”

So Seungcheol did, and Jeonghan also continued with his quest of drilling knowledge through Seungcheol’s thick skull.

Seungcheol sees Sagittarius again tonight, shining as brightly as it had all those years ago. In a way, he’s glad that for everything that has changed since then, the constellation manages to remain the same. Steady and unwavering.

A light breeze caresses Seungcheol’s face. The soft pressure pushing into the gaps between his lips brings forth yet another treasured memory of his.

“I knew you were here,” he said in place of a greeting.

The castle behind them was roaring with joyful celebrations, and yet the one whose life was being celebrated was 500 paces away from the festivities. Jeonghan was leaning back on the palms of his hand, legs outstretched in front of him and gaze fixed on the vastness of the hill.

“It doesn’t take a scholar to find out, Seungcheol.” The prince turned his face slightly to the side, sparing Seungcheol a glance over his shoulder. “Especially when you’ve had time and experience in the matter.”

Seungcheol made his way to him and sat himself down next to Jeonghan, who immediately curled up to him. His head rested on Seungcheol’s upper arm. Silken, aureate hair tickled the side of his neck, but Seungcheol put aside his discomfort in exchange for Jeonghan’s comfort.

“Happy name day,” he mumbled softly.

“I loathe that sentence,” Jeonghan retorts. He sounded tired, probably worn out from spending the entire day dealing with foreign and domestic ambassadors alike. “I’ve heard it way too often in such a short period of time.”

He sighed and snuggled even closer. Seungcheol put his arm around Jeonghan’s figure to better reel him in. The quiet between them he nurtured, for he knew that Jeonghan would open up when he felt ready to do so.

“It has come to my realisation that I am a prince,” Jeonghan began just as the silence grows comfortable. “And in order to ensure the freedom of my people, I have to give up mine. Our guests… as genuine as their intentions are for being here, seem to expect so many things of me. I’m not entirely sure I can live up to even one.”

There was so much Seungcheol could say in hopes of alleviating his worries, but he didn’t want Jeonghan to think that there wasn’t space for a prince to have doubts. In Seungcheol’s eyes, the fact that he had given such consideration to this matter already made him a better ruler than some. Jeonghan understood that power is where power goes, and in this life, he had an abundance of it.

Knowing that he’d do his best with what he had in his possession only solidified Seungcheol’s resolve.

“If it took you 21 years to realise you are a prince,” he opted for the jovial approach, “perhaps you should refrain from calling me slow-witted every other day.”

The blond-haired man raised his fist to hit Seungcheol in the chest, but his knuckle met something hard that wasn’t flesh or muscle and Jeonghan cursed in strings. A manner totally unbecoming for a crown prince who had just come of age.

“Stupid knight’s brooch.” He sounded quite offended by an inanimate object that hadn’t been bothering him, so Seungcheol took it off and offered it to him. At that, Jeonghan lifted his head off Seungcheol’s arm. “What?”

“My present to you.”

“You can’t just proffer your brooch to me,” Jeonghan scolded him half-heartedly, “it’s a symbol of swearing allegiance. Surely they had taught you this at one point throughout your years of education.”

“I know perfectly well what it symbolises,” was all Seungcheol said in response.

Jeonghan’s bright eyes widened in surprise. “You know.”

“I know.”

“Are you—”

“I am.”

“It is gravely rude to interrupt a prince while he’s speaking,” he reprimanded. Seungcheol made a wordless move of locking his mouth and throwing away the key. “You wish to serve me?”

 _I think I was born to serve you_.

Since he had to be scarce with his words, Seungcheol simply nodded. He watched as Jeonghan turned the silver brooch in his hand, inspecting the cut and colour of the gemstones adorning it, gears turning round and round in his head as he carefully mulled over Seungcheol’s proposition.

They had grown up together; give it another couple of years and Seungcheol would have lived longer with Jeonghan in his life than not. In the years they had spent in each other's company, Seungcheol learned that there’s more to the prince than what meets the eye.

And everything he found, he admired.

Jeonghan stood up and patted himself free of dirt and grass.

“Kneel.”

Seungcheol did as he was bid.

“Speak your Oath of Fealty.”

He recited the lines he’d commit to his memory, kept his voice strong and certain as Jeonghan listened on, sharp gaze drinking in details of Seungcheol’s countenances while he spoke.

_I promise on my faith that I will the faithful to my liege, never to cause him any harm, and observe my homage to him completely against all persons, all in good faith and without deceit. My fidelity will be unbroken, with God as my witness._

In the end, he adds something beyond the necessary conventionality: “You won’t just live to what they think you can achieve. You will go further, you will strive higher, all for the prosperity of your subjects. And as you achieve such greatness, it will be a tremendous honour for me to be allowed to stand next to you.”

When Seungcheol was through with his part of the act, the younger man gulped thickly.

“I accept,” he said after what Seungcheol perceived as the longest pause in his life, then he leaned down to pin Seungcheol’s brooch back onto his velvet robe. “You may rise.”

This wasn’t the official ceremony, of course, but Seungcheol could recall he was ten times more nervous when it was just him and Jeonghan alone. Weeks later, standing in front of the king’s court while wearing his full armour to publicly pledge his loyalty would come as a less intense experience than that night on the hill.

Perhaps it was because of this:

“If I may be granted another present,” Jeonghan began, index finger still tracing the outline of Seungcheol’s brooch. He looked up at Seungcheol and there was a childish lilt to his tone. “Before you answer, may I first remind you that today is my name day.”

Seungcheol had never meant his words more when he said, “Anything.”

Before he knew it, a pair of warm lips— _Jeonghan’s_ —curved into a small smile against his own. The prince insistently chased the shadow of Seungcheol’s surprised gasp back into his mouth and Seungcheol hands came to steady him by the hips. They parted much too soon for Seungcheol have fully lost himself in the sensation: the pleasure of having one’s mouth fitted perfectly on his, the sweet relish of honey wine passing from Jeonghan’s tongue.

“Thank you,” Jeonghan whispered as faintly as the wind right next to Seungcheol’s ear, then the knight was left standing there with the ghost of a secret embrace imprinted onto his consciousness.

Jeonghan never brought it up again after that night and Seungcheol easily rationalised that his action was a result of a drunken surge of courage. A manifestation of his longing for normalcy—for in their customs one usually received a kiss for their 21st birthday, not an entire country to rule.

All that roundabout grasping Seungcheol made at non-existent straws, and it never once occurred to him that Jeonghan was sober enough to accept his Oath of Fealty.

_You really would let me marry another, wouldn't you?_

A shooting star crosses the dark dome above his head and once its tail disappeared at the edge of the world, Seungcheol’s mind clears. He understands Jeonghan’s tears that had come with quiet desperation, the aching in his own heart that matched it entirely. They are simply two sides of the same coin; which had made it difficult for Seungcheol to see the picture painted on the side opposite to his.

It was him. Jeonghan meant _him_.

♔♚♔♚♔♚♔♚

“You have made a mistake coming here,” the king addresses him firmly. Seungcheol hears the sound of his heart breaking inside his chest; a loud, resonant crack. “You think I would ever agree to a betrothal between you and my only son…”

Seungcheol swallows around a lump in his throat that is threatening to bring about his demise. He had prepared for this sort of reaction beforehand, had spent hours before dawn to list down all the reasons as to why he’d be an acceptable suitor for Jeonghan. He might not be the richest, he might not be the wisest, but he does know this country and its people. And most importantly, he knows its future king.

He was sure that he can convince a _tree_ that he is worthy of Jeonghan’s hand, but now his confidence is being chipped away slowly but surely.

“…before you obtain his formal agreement?”

The knight looks up immediately, having studied the carpeted floor of the king and queen’s chamber for the last minute or so after he vocalised his intentions. His eyes find the queen’s first, an insurmountable warmth radiating through her gaze. Jeonghan resembles her a lot in this way.

“Very kind of you to relieve us all from our misery, Seungcheol.” She smiles, the corners of her mouth turned up kindly. “At this rate, we were afraid the prince would make our family the enemy of the state with how he’s been rejecting suitors left and right. And not just this state, either.”

It feels like his hope is being catapulted back and forth from one minute to another. Seungcheol isn’t quite sure of where it would land; safely on a plush mattress or a coarse and unforgiving battleground.

The queen hides a chuckle behind her sleeve when she sees Seungcheol’s expression. She turns to her husband.

“I think you have confused him, my dear.”

Averting his gaze to the king, Seungcheol prays he finds the answer he’s been looking for there.

The king returns his gaze. “What I meant to tell you was, Jeonghan will be unsettled to know that you had come to us before you come to him with this intention of yours.”

Ah.

That… sounds about right.

Seungcheol had been in such a hurry, requesting an audience with the king and queen before the bell for breakfast rings throughout the castle. He needed to make sure he is ahead of whoever is to come knocking at the castle’s gates today. If he had stopped for just a second, he would have realised that in a way his actions have completely ignored the chain of command—thus Jeonghan’s authority at that.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he clears his throat when his voice sounds a little too scratchy for his liking. “Is it to my correct understanding that should the prince agree to my proposal, that I am to have your blessings as well?”

The king leans back on his seat and glances at his wife, who looks at him encouragingly. “Are you ready?” he asks.

Seungcheol doesn’t know what he means by that exactly, but still, he answers, “I am,” anyway.

“Good,” the king nods. “Best of luck to you, then.” He rises from his chair and starts to walk away.

“Best of luck…?” Seungcheol mumbles, his mind unable to catch up with the situation.

Just as the doors are about to close behind him, he hears the queen’s words: “You ought to seek Prince Jeonghan, now. Bring your proposal and your mistake with you, let him decide what is to be done with each of them.”

Oh.

Best of luck, because Jeonghan may just bite his head off for making him the third person in the castle to be aware of Seungcheol’s feelings toward him. Though the ones who beat him to the knowledge are his own parents, Jeonghan is unlikely to show Seungcheol any mercy for this.

More fool him, as instead of strategising his next move more carefully, with all his might Seungcheol runs all the way to the southern wing of the castle. All the way to Jeonghan.

♔♚♔♚♔♚♔♚

Seungcheol knocks twice on Jeonghan’s door and hears a low grunt from the other side. He takes a deep breath and places a palm flat on the oak as he pushes his way in. The prince is sitting upright on the bed, gently rubbing traces of sleep out of the corner of his eyes.

It becomes obvious to Seungcheol that he wasn’t who Jeonghan was expecting when the younger’s jaw slackens at the sight of him.

“Get out,” Jeonghan mutters in a hoarse voice. He pulls the covers over his head. “I am undressed.”

Out of courtesy, Seungcheol turns around. He walks toward the study table in the corner of the room; it’s positioned conveniently next to the big window as Jeonghan once said natural light is best for absorbing new information.

“There is a matter of utmost importance I must convene with you about.”

“Surely it can wait until after I break my fast.”

Has he mentioned how stubborn Jeonghan can be sometimes? Seungcheol leans against the desk to brace himself.

“Your Highness, I—”

“If you must, go ahead,” cuts Jeonghan, his tone clipped. Slightly annoyed. “Say your piece quickly and leave.”

“I owe you a secret for the conversation we had yesterday.”

Upon hearing his answer, Jeonghan scoffs; a derisive sound Seungcheol recalls he usually saves for old-fashioned lords who try to tell him how to do his job better.

“Is that the important matter you were referring to?”

“Will you hear it?”

He makes another sound, a sigh this time. A little too defeated for Seungcheol’s liking. “I will.”

“I am in love, my prince.”

It feels good to say it aloud, even better to know in his heart that it is the truth in its purest form. Out of all the secrets he’s shared with Jeonghan throughout the years that have passed, Seungcheol has an inkling this will be the one the prince treasures the most for the years to come. He won’t blame Jeonghan for it, since he’s quite sure it’s his favourite, too.

“Then I suppose congratulations are in order,” Jeonghan snips roughly, which makes Seungcheol realise he hasn’t gotten the message yet. “What else would you have me do with that information? Must I throw you a party, Seungcheol?”

His voice shakes and Seungcheol wants to turn to him, though he’s afraid of seeing tears in Jeonghan’s eyes again.

Has he gotten it wrong for the second time? Is it not him?

“Jeonghan-ah.”

“How dare you address me as such!” Now Seungcheol doesn’t need to look to know. Jeonghan is at the brink of tears, it’s evident from the wobbly delivery of his words. “We are not children anymore, you no longer have the leniencies I allowed you when we were in our youth.”

Pain blossoms in Seungcheol’s chest, his heart constricting three times its normal size.

“Get out of my chambers before I have you stripped of your titles for such disrespect.”

There’s a sob that follows Jeonghan’s barbed command and Seungcheol can hear him trying to hold it in. The ache spreads all over his body, every single cell in his being screaming for him to go to Jeonghan and wrap him in a warm embrace, but Seungcheol knows he must make Jeonghan understand before he does anything else.

It’s a leap across a dark chasm once again, not knowing what’s waiting for him on the other side. But for Jeonghan, the risk is always worth taking.

 _Let him decide what is to be done_.

“Jeonghan-ah,” Seungcheol breathes softly, “I love you.”

There are rustlings from the bed followed by the sound of Jeonghan’s feet being planted on the floor.

“If this is your idea of a joke…”

He shakes his head. “It is not.”

“You never were a liar,” Jeonghan mumbles, more to himself than to Seungcheol. “A fool who tried to escape his court sentencing, sure, but at least you acknowledged that you did intend to steal the bread.”

That reference to his past is uncalled for, but for now, Seungcheol will let it pass.

“I’m not lying to you,” Seungcheol tries to put Jeonghan at ease. “I regret that it took me quite a while to get here and that I caused you such pain in the meantime. It hurts me to think that the tears you shed in the Great Hall yesterday were on my behalf.”

Jeonghan takes a couple of steps toward him. Seungcheol can sense him moving from the way the air grows warmer around them. Jeonghan ignites special kind of a fire inside him and Seungcheol will keep it alive as long as possible. He won’t even let it dim.

“You are an idiot.”

These words are formed against Seungcheol’s shoulder blade, Jeonghan’s mouth moving against the thin fabric of his shirt. The prince’s arms come to wrap around his middle, intertwined fingers resting on his abdomen, right above his navel. Seungcheol flexes his own fingers above the surface of the table, giddy from the anticipation that they may be allowed to touch Jeonghan soon, in the way he so desires.

“That, I must admit I am,” Seungcheol relents. “How else could I have missed what has been right in front of me all these years?”

Jeonghan’s cheek rub against his neck, then the prince is resting his chin on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” Seungcheol obliges him. “I love you, Jeonghan-ah.”

Bravely, Seungcheol straightens his back and strokes Jeonghan’s joined hands before he moves his touch to the prince’s forearm, rubbing soothing circles there. Jeonghan’s front is pressed flushed against his back and the prince feels so warm, having just awakened from his slumber. Seungcheol himself might drift off to sleep if it weren’t for the fact that they are currently standing upright.

He turns around in Jeonghan’s hold and frames Jeonghan’s face gently, the prince leaning into his touch like it’s something he’s been yearning for. Seungcheol supposes it is. Thumbing Jeonghan’s cheek, he erases the tracks of tears there and vows to never do anything to elicit this response from Jeonghan ever again.

“Please, my love, don’t cry. I don’t want you to be sad.”

“You think I cried because I was _sad_?” Jeonghan leans away enough to look up at Seungcheol. “I was frustrated, Seungcheol. A little angry, even. Scared.”

“Scared?”

“Scared I would end up having to grow old alone waiting for you to figure it out.”

The likelihood of that ever happening seems rather poor to Seungcheol. “Even if I’m stupid enough to never figure it out, you’d never have to grow old alone. I’m always here. With you.”

“Never mind that now,” Jeonghan sniffles. “You figured it out.”

“I did.”

“And when are you planning to kiss me? Is it going to take you another four—”

Seungcheol silences him by slotting his mouth over Jeonghan’s, swallowing his protests whole, whatever they may be. As they kiss, Jeonghan’s body arches into his unconsciously, Seungcheol’s hands on the small of his back accommodating the prince’s desires to come closer. This time Jeonghan doesn’t taste like honey wine, instead he tastes like determination and relief all at once.

Upon separation, Jeonghan rests their forehead together and lets out a happy laugh to the small space between their lips. Seungcheol’s whole face is tingling. He’s smiling so hard, his cheeks may get strained.

He leans back in for another kiss but Jeonghan’s already withdrawing from their private bubble.

“My prince,” Seungcheol gasps, shell-shocked. Jeonghan is now kneeling in front of him, hands bracketing Seungcheol’s hips tightly. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Pledging my allegiance,” says Jeonghan, as if he’s stating the obvious here. “If you will have me.”

“I…” He’s at a loss for words. “I think I should be the one pledging to you. It is not fitting for a prince to be on his knees in front of a lesser man—”

“You are my betrothed now, are you not?”

Seungcheol gulps thickly at the question. “If you will have me.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but instead of feeling vexed, he’s just playful. Seungcheol’s heart threatens to burst.

“I am already on my knees, Choi Seungcheol. What better constitutes an acceptance than this?” He doesn’t have an answer for that, and the silence allows the prince to continue with, “You have already pledged once when you entered my service. Now it is my turn.”

“Your High—”

“Call me the way you did before,” Jeonghan pleads, voice gentle and brimming with hope. “When it is just us two, please indulge me that much.”

“Jeonghan-ah.”

The prince shudders at the term, whole body put into the act. His eyes flutter close in gratification, pale lashes batting against flawless skin. Seungcheol cups his face carefully and trails calloused fingertips along Jeonghan’s jawline, marvelling at the beauty that deserves nothing less than to be immortalised. He quietly wonders if an oil painting is a suitable wedding gift.

It is only when Jeonghan reaches for the drawstrings of his pants does Seungcheol snap out of his reverie. His hands shoot down to refrain Jeonghan’s wrists from going further. Seungcheol stares down at him with wide eyes and parted lips, a state of incomprehension washing over him.

Kneeling in front of him and speaking words of honour that will bind them in the eyes of the law are one thing, but to have Jeonghan service him in this way—Seungcheol does not know if his principles will allow him to have this.

For the longest time, it has always been him at Jeonghan’s disposal and never the other way around.

“You do not want this?” asks Jeonghan, staring up at him from behind his lashes. Seungcheol’s resolve is a crumbling sandstone, once sturdy but now only a few whispers away from disintegrating. “You do not want me?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Of course I want you.”

“And I also want you. If you feel the same, then I see no reason for us to not continue as we were.” Why does Jeonghan keep making sense like this? Seungcheol simply can not refute logic no matter how hard he tries. “Should you stop wanting me at any time, you are free to put an end to what I am about to do.”

 _That is impossible_ , Seungcheol wants to say, but his thoughts die instantly when Jeonghan yanks the strings that were holding his pants up until they are undone, causing the article to fall to the floor, pooling around his ankles. Tentative fingers skirt the edge of his undergarment for a heartbeat before Jeonghan frees him of that fabric, too.

Exposed. That’s how he feels standing there Jeonghan’s eyes fixed on his member, hardening now just from being gazed upon. Vulnerable, too. Like he’s going into battle without a well-conceived strategy. There’s also fear—fear that this is all too good to be true. That the moment he closes his eyes, he’ll find himself back in his own chamber, without Jeonghan nor the acknowledgement of how they feel about each other.

Then Jeonghan licks his lips and puts them over to the tip of Seungcheol’s cock, and he’s tethered to reality by the action. Jeonghan’s lips open around him and the younger guides Seungcheol into the warm cavern of his mouth, tongue flicking slowly around the head before it remains flat on the underside. His fingers come to wrap around the length he can’t take, forming a loose circle at first before he tightens them up.

“Jeonghan-ah,” Seungcheol groans.

He shouldn’t have done that, call Jeonghan that way, because it injects courage into Jeonghan’s veins hearing his name being spoken in such manner. Jeonghan begins to press forward with more assertiveness, mouth fully stretched open to accommodate Seungcheol’s girth. When he pulls away with a lewd noise, he looks up at Seungcheol, either to gauge his reaction or to make sure Seungcheol’s eyes are on him as he takes him in again.

This time, Jeonghan hollows his cheeks out and Seungcheol almost loses his footing. He has to grip the edge of the desk tightly now as to not fall down to the floor, dangerously close to the edge of his release now. A second away from his orgasm and Jeonghan releases him again, lifting himself to Seungcheol’s level.

“Open your eyes.”

With great effort, Seungcheol manages to do so.

Jeonghan strokes him languidly a couple more times. “Come, Seungcheol,” and the pad of his thumb dips into the slit, sternly coaxing Seungcheol's discharge out of him.

“Come,” Jeonghan repeats, voice low in Seungcheol’s ear.

And Seungcheol knows a command if he ever hears it. Since he’s sworn on both his life and dignity to carry out Jeonghan’s orders, he fulfils this one to the best of his ability.

♔♚♔♚♔♚♔♚

Jeonghan’s fingers thread through Seungcheol’s hair idly, the caress so tender and yet grounding at the same time. Seungcheol leans into it and lets Jeonghan have what he wants because all of him already belonged to the other man for many years, now. There is no point in denying Jeonghan what is rightfully his to begin with, especially not when it makes Seungcheol the luckiest and happiest man alive to be able to deliver his wishes.

He toys with the hem of Jeonghan’s sleep robe. Every time Seungcheol sneaks a brave touch or two below the fabric, he feels Jeonghan’s abdominal muscles rearrange themselves. Tensing for a few wonderful seconds before the prince finds his composure once again and remembers how to breathe. It’s his honest reaction to a newly discovered form of intimacy that has Seungcheol thinking about what they had just done.

Though Jeonghan excels at everything he does, the way he took Seungcheol into his mouth was way too good for it to be a first time. Seungcheol just worries—as he often does in regard to all that concerns the prince—about whom Jeonghan had taken as a practice partner.

“Where did you…” Seungcheol trails off, unsure of what words to say.

Jeonghan looks down at him, eyes soft. “Learn to do what I did?”

“Yes.”

“Prince Jisoo tells me a thing or two whenever he comes for a visit.”

The revelation astounds him so, Seungcheol immediately props himself up on his elbow and stares Jeonghan right in the eyes. Whatever expression is gracing his features right now has Jeonghan stifling a laugh, barely succeeding in his efforts. Seungcheol suspects it’s an equal mixture of offence and disbelief. He can only imagine, then, what the young princes had been up to on all those occasions they had asked to be left alone in Jeonghan’s private quarters.

“Not in practice, _never_ in practice. Just theory.” Jeonghan’s reassurance brings him back to the present, his fingertips trailing across Seungcheol’s jaw. “Jisoo can be quite a story-teller when the theme fancies him.”

He leans down to give Jeonghan a quick peck, and when he pulls away the prince says, “We must go to see my parents before the day ends.”

“Ah…”

Seungcheol remembers now. His mistake.

“What is it?”

“I do not wish to upset you.”

“You have already upset me by speaking that sentence,” Jeonghan narrows his eyes at him, his gaze full of suspicion. “You already went,” he successfully concludes barely five seconds later.

Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh. It’s an inconvenience to be an open book to Jeonghan in times like these. He prepares to launch into his apology. He needs to explain that he hadn’t been thinking clearly with the full impact of the revelation hitting him all at once. How years worth of longing he’s chalked up to non-romantic feelings finally catching up to him had blurred his vision for a moment.

But Jeonghan says, “It is alright,” and Seungcheol is taken aback by how genuine he sounds.

“It is?”

“We still have to visit them once more today since you neglected to bring me with you the first time around.”

“Yes, of course.” Seungcheol gnaws at his bottom lip. “Jeonghan-ah, are you sure everything is alright?”

“I have always allowed you certain leniencies. What is one more?”

“If I recall correctly, you said we have long past that point.”

“I apologise.” Those two words coming out of Jeonghan’s mouth shock Seungcheol even more than the sight of the prince going down on his knees. “At that moment I thought you were about to hurt me, so I acted accordingly. It is a whole defence mechanism, I am sure you understand this about me better than anyone.”

“I do.”

“And you still love me despite it all?” he inquires softly.

Seungcheol makes sure Jeonghan can see his face when he tells him, “I love you for it all,” without a speck of doubt.

His eyes smile before his lips curl, then Jeonghan is pulling him in for a sweet exchange of wordless declarations. Seungcheol thinks he can do this forever if Jeonghan didn’t have a country to run. Jeonghan’s palm has just slid across his nape when there’s a loud knock on the door, startling them both to separation. When he looks toward the source of the sound, Seungcheol notices there’s a message for them.

Jeonghan notices it too.

“Let me,” he stops Seungcheol from moving with a firm hand on his chest, leaving the knight no choice but to relent.

He watches Jeonghan walk toward the door, the rays of sunshine streaming through his window doing nothing to hide his silhouette underneath his thin robe. Jeonghan bends down to retrieve the note that was passed through the gap under the door, eyes skimming the words written on the parchment before he laughs, features riddled with happiness.

“What is it?”

“Seokmin says he had the great misfortune of being tasked to retrieve me in the morning when we were in the middle of,” Jeonghan moves to settle the note down on his table, “ _coupling_.”

Seungcheol sputters, sitting up on the bed with his legs hanging over the side. “W-we were _not_ coupling.”

That is improper, _scandalous_ even. He would never—

“We were pretty close,” Jeonghan points out. “Weren’t we?”

“No, we were not!”

“What is your problem with it?” the prince demands, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. “Is it such an unflattering prospect for you to be thought to have laid with me?”

Alright. Seungcheol is backed against a corner now. He didn’t mean it that way, of course, but as in any new relationships there is bound to be uncertainties and before he manages to rid Jeonghan of his completely, he makes a note to be mindful of what he says. The last he wants is to fuel Jeonghan’s doubts, intentionally or not.

“Of course not.”

“Then what?” Jeonghan’s lips, beautiful and kiss-swollen, are now pressed together in a determined line. “Speak.”

“I haven’t courted you properly,” Seungcheol tells him, then straight away regrets using such expression.

He feels his face heating up already. Why is he acting like he’s back in his juvenile years? No, even in his juvenile years Seungcheol hadn’t been this big of an embarrassment. He had charisma, okay? The young gentlemen who had bruised Seungcheol’s lips using their own after losing matches in the summer tournaments to him can surely attest to that. Them, or the ladies from foreign courts who sauntered up to him after a feast, their words sweet and touches even sweeter.

However, there's an element missing from all those previous experiences that doesn’t allow him to put Jeonghan in the same playing field as them. Jeonghan sits on a pedestal—no, a _throne_ , and Seungcheol himself was the one who carved out that place in his heart for him.

“There will be no coupling until I’ve courted you. And until we are married in the eyes of the law.”

He thinks Jeonghan will tease him for it. It’s well within his character to mention something about how Seungcheol choosing to be righteous at this moment is a stark contradiction when he’s already accepted a form of service, but the prince is silent as Seungcheol's words register with him.

“You… want to court me?”

Seungcheol’s heart is so, _so_ weak. “Yes,” he confirms. “I would like that very much, if you’ll allow me.”

Jeonghan snaps out of his daze. His eyes are twinkling again, features doing nothing to hide his exultance. Seungcheol extends a hand toward him simply because he craves for Jeonghan’s touch, though it hasn’t been five minutes past since he last had it. This is not good. Seungcheol is becoming greedy and Jeonghan is unlikely to be the one to put a cap on his desires.

“Asking for yet another leniency, I see,” he makes his way to Seungcheol and fits himself in between Seungcheol’s legs. Jeonghan’s fingers crawls through Seungcheol’s locks once again, the movement affectionate, overwhelmingly so. “You are presumptuously bold this morning.”

Taking Jeonghan’s hand from the top of his head, he brings it lower to press a kiss to the heel of his palm, then rests his cheek against it.

“I will do everything to make you happy.”

“You already do.”

Jeonghan brings his face down to Seungcheol’s and kisses him, slow but sweet. Thorough, as if he’s mapping every inch of Seungcheol’s mouth. When he pulls away their breaths are slightly wrecked, but Seungcheol doesn’t mind.

“Seokmin also says he can procure us a bottle of oil, if ever the need should arise. Discreetly, of course.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Jeonghan’s attendant is going to be the death of him. Who knows what false news he’s spreading around the castle right now? And Seungcheol can only imagine the people he'd get to listen to him. Seokmin and his stupid little taunting wink, making Seungcheol grovel his way to an epiphany when he could just easily point him in the right direction. It wouldn’t have been a betrayal to Jeonghan if Seungcheol was involved in the matter, too!

“I am going to have a word with him.”

“Don’t be so harsh,” Jeonghan chides him gently, tapping Seungcheol’s cheek to capture his attention. “Seokmin means well.”

“He called me a dense dough yesterday,” Seungcheol blurts out, offended. Jeonghan stares at him blankly, about to open his mouth to raise a question when Seungcheol says, “I don’t wish to talk about it.”

He kisses Jeonghan again in an attempt to distract him from the matter.

“Let’s get you dressed, hm?” Seungcheol fiddles with the bind of Jeonghan’s robe. How easy it would be just to pull at it right now, the way Jeonghan had done with the strings of Seungcheol's pants. “So we can go to the king’s chamber.”

“In a moment.” Jeonghan takes his hands and guides them around his body, purposefully capturing himself in Seungcheol’s embrace. “For now, just hold me like this.”

“Your wish is my command,” he answers as he pulls Jeonghan close.

Against the crook of his neck, Jeonghan voices his declaration. “I love you deeply, Choi Seungcheol.” Then, it is followed by a befitting taunt of, “Better catch up to me fast, you slug.”

Seungcheol laughs full of mirth, only stopping when Jeonghan pulls him for another kiss, one as just deep as he claims his love to be.

As deep as Seungcheol believes it to be.

And as deep as he'll return it, as the forever between them that began more than a decade ago has just earned its new beginning today.

**Author's Note:**

> this work is unbeta-ed and written in a short period of time therefore all mistakes are mine! hopefully you enjoyed it nonetheless. 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/bioominsummer/status/1291717340589993984) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer)


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